The 10th Quarter Quell
by Emiiiiiii99
Summary: This year, to show the rebels that bonds can be their downfall, tributes will be paired with a 3-6 year old. If the tribute dies, so does the child, and vice versa. Happy hunger games! SYOT closed! Need more 3-6 year olds though!
1. Chapter 1

Presidents POV

* * *

As I walk to the microphone on the other end of the terrace, I smirk. This was my first year as President, and my first Quarter Quell. What the districts and Capitol don't know are Gamemakers write them yearly. I wonder what Head Gamemaker, Sheen Crow, has wrote for the Quarter Quell. But first of all, I have to introduce myself. I only came into power yesterday, as President Wine had died of 'natural causes'. A girl has to make her way to the top.

"Evening Panem!" I say int the microphone, knowing Capitolites are hooked already and that the districts want this over with. Tough. "As you know, this year is the 250th games, meaning it's a Quarter Quell. I wonder what twist this will have for the tributes. First, let's hear about some past games. For the 200th games, to show rebels that even strong bonds will not save you, one family of four from each district had to enter the arena, and only a family of 3 could exit.

For the 225th games, to show the Capitol has no mercy for traitors, there was to be no victor. Let's read the card to see what amazing twist this year brings." As my voice rings out all over Panem, a slight 8 year old girl meekly walks out onto the stage, dressed in white to show purity and carrying a large oak box. Flipping the latch, I pull out the envelope marked 250. Teasingly, I slowly open the letter, before pulling out the heavy parchment. Scanning through, the parchments bearings satisfy me, so I read it out. "This year, to show the rebels that bonds can be their downfall, tributes will be placed with a 3-6 year old. If the child dies, so does the tribute, and vice versa. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!" Seeing the red light turn off, a smile spreads across my face. I can't wait for the games.


	2. AN important!

**Hey, I only received one tribute form! I need more. Girl from D4 is now taken. Will your tribute be a bloodthirsty career, or a shy one from an outplaying district. Youcould even just send me a name, district, and they can be a bloodbath! Please guys!**


	3. Tribute list

If you'd like to submit I so far have:

D1 F - Emerald Green (Susie3876)

D1 M - Ivan Bragniska (little miss innocent liar)

D2 F - Pepper Elright (cherrybubble)

D2 M - Antonio Carrideo (little miss innocent liar)

D3 F - Moss (Twilight Freak)

D3 M - Ellis Deplun (cherrybubble)

D4 F - Gilly Porter (created by quiet-little-wallflower)

D4 M - Jared Kiter (Dramatic Gleek)

D5 F - Honoria Davis (meg2heartshp)

D5 M - Andrew Enciso (bullriding lover)

D6 F - Guaze (Twilight Freak)

D6 M - open

D7 F - Trya Baysons (Charlie3Cato)

D7 M - Theo Caldera ( created by Jammerock2000)

D8 F - Lexa Polt (created by DestielJunkie)

D8 M - Liam Quets (created by DestielJunkie)

D9 F - Maira Greth (Jaspersgurl1843)

D9 M - Jamie Malite (Jaspersgurl1843)

D10 F - Dawn Ephixa (Jammerock2000)

D10 M - Vino Von Buck (little miss innocent liar)

D11 F - Chell Aperture (Jammerock2000)

D11 M - Derrick Holdson

Both D12's created by me.

**Instead of doing D1 - D12, I'm doing it the other way around, due to how many tributes I have.**


	4. District 12 reapings

**Guys, I've barely had any tribute forms! Send me some please! You'll get double the sponsor points :D**

**Plus, with the reapings, I'm going for district 12 downwards to D1. Also, here's some history on the rebellion**

**After the 2nd rebellion, District 12 became a richer district, which created Capitol medicines. District 2 became the poorest district of them, as it was the closest to the Capitol. Training centres were made in all the districts, after President Paylor died of 'natural causes'. President Flake decided to reinstate the Games. Career districts are now D1, D4, D8, and D12, but other districts are allowed in.**

* * *

District 12; Rue Mellark, aged 15

* * *

Stretching in my bed, I glance at the clock beside me. 7am. I wonder why I'm up so early, then I realise that this morning is the reaping. All my mothers children went into the arena aged 15, like Cato. He came back, but he was never the same jokey brother he was. My Great-Grandmother was Katniss Everdeen. Great-Grandfather was Peeta Mellark. She was the leader of the rebellion, the Mockingjay. They've been punishing my family ever since. Also, for some reason, the women in our family seem to only bear males, therefore continuing the Mellark name. I'm the first female in about 175 years. Weird huh?

Anyway, enough about my family life. As I rise out of bed, I see the list stuck on the door. My mother, Leevy Mellark, has left it there so I know what I'm to do today

* * *

1. Feed the chickens, and those geese Rye kept.

2. Shower

3. Dress, and make sure you look nice! You will be going to the Capitol after all

4. Go to the correct area at the reaping; don't do what Shimmer did!

* * *

Just like my mother, to make me a list that simple. Anyway, about Shimmer. Last year, it was her last reaping, and she went into the 12 year old part. Everyone chuckled at her, the tall head out of a sea of tiny ones. I feed the chicken and geese, shower in the beautiful Capitol shower in our Victor house, then I look for my new dress. It's a cyan in colour, with sea blue ribbons. I love it, and wore it to the Hawthorne's wedding. Searching through all my other clothes, I can't see it. Frowning, I yell to my mother "MOTHER! Where's my new dress!" "You lent it to Shine." Rats. I forgot. I'll have to wear my pink dress with the roses. It's not as nice but, I can survive. Dressing quickly and quietly, I check the time, and see there is only 10 minutes until the reaping starts, and pricking my finger takes 5 minutes. Putting on my new shoes, I scamper out of the house and rush to the reaping area.

* * *

Sucking my finger free of blood, I position myself on the edge of the 15-year-old girls. If I'm going to be going up there, I don't want to be in the middle. Havana Tinkle, the District 12 escort, climbs on the stage gracefully, before sitting primly on one of the seats near there. Mayor Free reads the Treaty, then Havana takes the stage.

"Hello, people of District 12!" she pauses, expecting a response, but instead she just gets a disapproving silence. Flustered, she says "Let's reap the females!" Practising my confident smirk, I stand straight, and listen carefully for my name. So I'm not surprised when she reads out "Rue Mellark."

* * *

Stauntering up to the stage confidently, I stand proud as I wait to see who I would be competing against. When she reads out the name, I'm shocked. It's the boy I've loved since I was 8 years old. I'm going to die

* * *

District 12; Rory Hawthorne, age 15

Throwing my final axe, I glance at the dummy, seeing its ripped to shreds. Grinning, I pull out my axes, and replace them in their racks. I decided to have a practice before the reaping. I have a feeling I'll be picked, and I want to win. Exiting the Training Center, I walk to my home near the victors village. Staring longingly at the Mellark home, I wish I was brave enough. Brave enough to go, knock on the door, and confess my love for Rue. She'd probably think I'd overdosed on morphling! I stroll into the house, dress, then strut to the reaping.

After having my blood type looked at, I walk to the 15 year old pen, and realise that Rue will go into the games. All her family do aged 15. She's called, then Havana reaches into the male bowl, pulls out a slip, and proceeds to read out the name on it. Rory Hawthorne.

* * *

As I shake Rue's hand, I blurt out "I love you!". She looks shocked before replying confidently "I love you too." Then we're led into the justice building


	5. District 11 reapings

I need males! I have all my females I need!

* * *

District 11; Chell Aperture, age 15

I wander through the district aimlessly. I'm meant to be in the orchards, reaching for the foods, but to be honest, there's no point. Amy is on the job already, so I would just be a spare part. A Peacekeeper spots me just as the flag is waved for the end of work. Grumbling, he goes back to patrolling, as the four note whistle is heard. I rush home, not wanting to be caught in the throng of people wanting to go home.

* * *

As my mother finishes putting on my dress, I tie my hair into a bun. My dress is an ugly blue in colour, a hand-me-down from my cousin. I hate it, but my mother cannot afford any better. We're poor, as my father fell ill last summer. I could do with winning the Hunger Games. Fat chance; I'd have more chance of going into the orchard and not seeing any tracker jackers. Snorting, my mother looks at my questioningly and she adds the final touches to my hair. I don't know why she bothers; it looks a total mess. Slipping on my boots, which have lots of holes in, I rush out of the door.

* * *

"Name?" the Peacekeeper pricking my finger demands

"Chell Aperture." I say, bored.

He pricks my finger, deliberately pressing the button harder so it hurts more. Wrinkling my nose, I wonder why he seems familiar. Then I realise it's the Peacekeeper from earlier. I chuckle, then say "Goodbye Darius!" before wandering into the 15-year-old pen. I stand right in the middle, examining a piece of hair.

* * *

Tulip Margarita, the district 11 escort, takes to the stage. I don't know how she dared exit the house in those clothes, then again I can't really talk. Listening to the Treaty, I weave the hair around my finger absent-mindedly. I didn't even know that she'd reached into the large glass bowl. I didn't even know that she'd called my name.

She repeats "Chell Aperture."

The calling to send me to my death.

* * *

District 11; Derrick Holdson, age 17

As I shoot at my targets in the training centre, I begin to wish they had moving targets. District 11 has never been rich, so our training centre isn't as good. We have the simple weapons, spears, swords, bow and arrows, knives, and that's about it. No moving targets, no tests on speed, no hand to hand combat. No survival, but, then again, no districts has survival. It's dubbed as 'cheating'. To be honest, I believe that having Training Centres in general is cheating. I try some swords, and some spears, but I'm best with bow and arrow. When my father found out, he slapped me, and told me to use a manly weapon. Instead, to please him, I worked out, and became strong. He thought it was because I was using manly weapons, but he was wrong. I hate him. The only thing that weakens me is the fact I haven't been near a tree since I was 10 year old, when I fell from one and the bone in my arm was broken. I was in so much pain. I cried, and that was the first time my father gave me a beating. He said "Men don't cry", moved my arm so it was more painful, then left me to be found by the neighbours. Shooting an arrow at a dummy, I imagine that it's my father, and it hits it's target, the eye. It would kill them, but painfully. I want my father to be in pain when he dies.

* * *

"DERRICK! GET HERE NOW! I NEED A GLASS OF LIQUOR, AND YOUR NEVER GOING TO BE READY FOR THE REAPING!" my father yells. Rushing into the kitchen, I pour a glass of white liquor, slick my hair down the best I can with just my hands, and walk into my father. He's sat in 'his' chair, yelling at the TV screen. Upon closer inspection, I see that it's the President on the TV, and she makes my father so angry when he's had a drink. Carefully putting his drink on the table, I clear my voice loudly. He looks at me, before promptly punching my in the eye. I fall to the ground, clutching my eye, and yell "What the hell was that for!"

"So you'll look tough when you volunteer."

* * *

That was the worst argument me and my father ever had. I wasn't going to volunteer. He wanted me to. Instead, I promised him I'd volunteer next year, a promise that I wasn't intending on keeping. But, thanks to him, I had a right shiner of an eye. Dressing in a fancy shirt shirt and some smart chinos, I find some shoes my dad bought me when I wasn't a disappointment. Slipping them on, I find they're comfortable, fancy, and they fit perfectly. Pleased, I walk out of the door. To my second to last reaping.

* * *

Standing with the other 17 year olds, I look around at them. None of them are as bulky as I am, and none of them are as tall. I look 18, or maybe even older. While I was pondering this, I realise that Tulip has called the first name. A girl in a disgusting blue dress, and boots with holes in them (they were so bad her big toe poked out) was trembling as she walked up to the stage. When she got there, she collapsed, crying. If it was me who went up there, I'd be strong, confident. A crying wreck image won't get you sponsors. I stand tall, watching as Tulip's hand dips into the glass bowl. Picks up the slip with manicured hands. Opens it up. Reads it. Says it aloud. "Derrick Holdson." I stroll up to the stage proudly, stopping on my way to wink and give high fives. I must look so good to the Capitol. I'll have sponsors for sure. Shaking hands with the girl, I recall her as Chell. She'd have NO CHANCE!

* * *

**a/n: I was so freaked out earlier! I accidently clicked my wifi button, which turned it off, and I thought it'd deleted all my work. Luckily it'd just gone back a page. I NEED MALES!**


	6. District 10 reapings

Here is the District 10 Reapings.

* * *

District 10; Dawn Ephixa, age 15

As I throw one last spear, I realise I'd never have a chance if I was reaped. I have to stand close to my target to throw, or I can't even see it. Even then, my aim isn't good. I'm near sighted, but not many people know that, as my family are quite rich and can afford what the Capitol call contacts, but we call plastic eyes. Pulling the spears out of the dummy, I replace them carefully. One last glass spear won't fit in, and I throw it to the floor in a fit of rage. The glass shatters, and I find my body full of shallow cuts emitting blood. The trainer sees, and commands me to pick the pieces up. My rage blinds me, and I pick up a shard of glass, and swipe it across her face before running home. I've sealed my fate as a tribute. She's the Head Peacekeeper.

* * *

Dressing in my best, I weave my blonde hair in between my fingers. Stroking the silky locks, I feel as if I'm stroking my comforter. I'll be dead soon. And don't I know it. My mother seems to sense something is wrong. She plucks out the family heirloom. It's a bracelet, with a cow pattern on it. I love the feel of it, as it feels furry. My mother never let me see it, since my father died. It reminded her of him. Just like me. Before I can do something stupid, like burst into tears, I rush out of the house.

* * *

I call for my best friend, Greel Carmichael. He's lovely, a genuine nice guy. We wander to the reaping together. Just before we get our fingers pricked, I kiss him. He looks shocked, as I murmur "I've wanted to do that for so long you know." He blinks a couple of times, and then kisses me. "So have I." So, with our fingers intertwined, we walk to the reaping.

* * *

Standing there, I had a premonition. I knew I was going to be picked. I started moving forward, just before the escort called my name. I was at the stage by the time she had finished. As I gracefully climbed the steps, she said "Eager, are we!" I wanted to punch her, as she said that. I listened to who I'd have to murder.

* * *

District 10; Vino Von Buck, age 15

As I slaughter the cow, I know we won't even get a quarter of the rich meat on it. Me and my family were mostly in charge of the slaughter of the animals. For every 10 cows we slaughtered, we got about half a cow. I hated murdering the innocent creatures. What'd they done to us to deserve being beheaded and their body eaten. It's so unfair. I kick the items in the slaughterhouse, then remember it's reaping day. I better look nice. If I'm being taken to the capitol, I don't want to look a mess. Rushing into the house, I see my fathers pressed my clothes. Sliding on the comfy shirt, and the pants, I realise I need to update my style. I've been wearing this to the reaping since my first. After the reaping, I'll ask my father for some money. The merchants won't be as strict on prices, seeing as two families will be in tears over losing their daughter or son. No-one is as strict on reaping day. I hum, a merry tune I can put no name to. As I slip on my fathers old shoes, I hesitate, before grabbing my money bag and running out of the door. On the way to the reaping, I buy a box of the cookies. Nothing to stop me taking them to the reaping. Might as well.

* * *

As I hungrily throw the cookies into my mouth, I realise I forgot to eat breakfast. I spot one boy staring longingly at my cookies, before I offer him one, spur of the moment. He accepts gratefully. "Thanks, dude. Name's Quill, you?" "Vino" "Good luck, bro" "You too." I made a friend. My first friend since, well, forever. Since Peter went into the Games and didn't come back. A girl is called, and she's already on the stage before the escort is done reading it. The girl looked like she'd punch her. I chuckle. She's got fire, and the last time that happened there was a rebellion. Then I remember that Dawn (the tribute) is short sighted and has anger problems. Oh well. Bloodbath! So caught up in my own mind, I don't realise my name has been called. Before I know it, I'm on stage. And I'm still eating the cookies

* * *

**A/N still need some males! You like?**


	7. District 9 reapings

District 9; Maria Greth, age 15

As I harvest the grain on the morning of the reaping, I pause and wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. The sun beating down on me, I continue. I only have to do a small field this morning; the Peacekeeper supervising felt sentimental. Fool. Chuckling to myself, I finish the field, put in some seeds, nod to the Peacekeeper and skip to my home in the square with a smile on my face. I'm constantly happy for some weird reason. As I reach my home, I spot my flute on the porch. I love the Pre-Panem instrument. In fact, I love everything Pre-Panem. It's so cool. They have so much amazing stuff. I mean, we have hovercraft, and stuff like that, but we also have the Hunger Games. They had televisions on the wall, wireless phones, no Hunger Games. I wish I lived in that era.

I play a merry tune on my flute. Some girls walk past, whispering how weird I was, and did I actually like the reapings? I answer them, and then play another tune. They look at me, and then speed walk off. I get ready for the reaping, skipping about the house joyfully. Putting on my brand new dress, I spin in front of the mirror, giggling. I put on some high heels my mother bought me, and promptly tumble onto the bed. I chuckle, before standing up, getting my balance, and walk out of the door to the reaping.

* * *

As I bounce about on my tiptoes nervously, I spot the other girls eyeing me like I was crazy. I guess I must have looked it. Oh well. I giggle in fear as the Mayor walks up, gives his speech, then steps down. The escort, Brotain, dips his hand into the female reaping bowl. I love his sparkly suit, but, then again, I love everything about everyone! Then he reads out my name. I don't love everything.

* * *

District 9; Jamie Malite, age 16

As I walk away from the training Center, I give some girls a flirtatious wink. They swoon, clutching each other. I stroll past them, eavesdropping. They're wondering which one of them I winked to. Idiots. I didn't wink to any of them, I winked to the female population in general. I'm the schools biggest womaniser, and they all love me. I'm not being big headed, but it's true. I get so many love letters, gifts, declarations of love. There is only one girl that hasn't, Maria Greth, but she's in her own happy world full of ice cream, and non-mutt animals. As I dress for the reaping, I button my shirt all the way up, hesitate, then unbutton a lot of buttons. I've gotta look sexy. I practice looking flirty but indifferent. I was amazing at it, even if I did say so myself. I put on some new pants, and then sling my shoes over my shoulder, choosing to go barefoot. Made me look sexier. I stroll out of the door, giving girls "The Look" as I walk to the reaping. Spotting a really cute one, I go up, kiss her on the lips, then walk off. I sigh. So many girls, so little time.

* * *

Maria Greth just got reaped. The only indifferent girl. Now I could really say I had all the girls falling at my feet. Every other girl let out a huge sigh of relief. Maria trembled, and promptly threw up on Brotain's shoes. He dips into the male bowl, pulls one out as quickly as possible, obviously wanting to change his shoes quick, and reads out the name "Jamie Malite" I just hope my womanising charms will get me sponsors.

* * *

**A/N one tribute needed! Sorry about no update yesterday, wasn't well**


	8. District 8 reapings

District 8; Lexa Polt age 15

I skip into the Training Center. Today was the reaping, but I didn't care. I wanted to get some training done, so even if the inevitable happened, I'd be prepared. Picking up a katana, I slash the dummy to bits. Moving onto the next dummy, I jab it's stomach, pulling it out slowly,imagining the blood covering it. I shake my head roughly. I'm thinking like a career. That's never good. I collapse to the ground and cry. Damn the Hunger Games, and damn the Capitol. I had accidentally said it aloud. The trainer looks at me, before picking me up and taking me to the Head Peacekeeper.

* * *

I spit some blood out of my mouth. The trainer had told the Peacekeeper what I said, and the Peacekeeper is charging me for rebellion. Instead of being killed, I am being beaten, and then thrown into the Games. The reaping will be rigged. The whip strokes my back gently, before lashing down hard on it, like it has the last 7 times. I won't cry out. I won't give them the satisfaction. Instead, I met their eyes, and find there isn't one trace of remorse. Instead, a brutal joy and bloodlust at my ravaged back. I spit in their faces, and the Peacekeepers bloodlust turns to hatred as he whips my backbathe hardest he has. I feel my heart stop, and I black out.

* * *

I wake up to find myself in a hospital bed. A Capitol doctor is there. "You have 5 minutes to get those shoes on. You're dressed, so don't worry about that. Your heart stopped you know." she pauses, biting an apple before exiting. I shove in the high heels, before looking down at my dress. It's beautiful. They want me to look good for the Capitol I suppose. I take a step in the heels, to find I'm a natural. I casually walk to the door. Breathing in the fresh air, I let out a sigh. I'll miss this place. I stroll to the reaping.

* * *

I'm reaped. I knew I would be. Smirking confidently, I saunter to the stage, even stretching out my hand to ask for help to get up. The Capitol will love me. The mayor reaches down to pull me up, shocked. I've always been shy, never confident, the one who sits in the back and doesn't speak. I give him a determined look, before going and standing by the escort. Let's see who I can ally with.

* * *

District 8; Liam Quets, age 17

I work on the new dress a Capitol lady wants. I sew quickly, needing to get it done before the reaping. I'd normally be done by now, but I trapped my hand in a machine, so now it has nerve damage. I've never been as good with my left, therefore I'm worse at sewing. I'm still good though. No other teenager can replicate my neat patterns, my intricate stitching. Plus, I'm the best at the basic first aid seminar I attend. Also, I am polite, and have good manners. My mother would clip me around the ear if I talked like the other children. Stroking my ear subconsciously, I continue to work on the dress.

* * *

Stitching in the last star, I hold up my work. It's a midnight blue in colour, with stars weaving in and out of the stitching. A bright moon covers a hidden breast pocket. It's beautiful, and I wish I could give it to Savannah, my sister. She's really girly, and would love a dress like this. Unfortunately, although our family are one of the richest in the district, we could never affbeauty amazing silk dress like this. If I won the games we could. That'd never happen though. I sigh, and run my hands over the silk, getting the feel of it. It is only recently I am allowed to use silk. Im not meant to use it until I'm 21, but I'm so good at the stitching, I'm allowed. Other teenagers watch me work enviously. To be honest, I don't really care. Neatly folding the dress, I leave it on my desk, before heading out to the reaping.

* * *

I'd been dressed in my reaping clothes at work, due to e fact my father believes I should look presentable for work, and not wear grubby clothing. I secretly agree, plus, it gets you the best jobs. I stand tall, knowing I am the largest boy of my age. I even tower over some of the 18 year olds. The escort has called the female; someone who I don't know. She's confident, even making the mayor pull her onto the stage! She'll get sponsors for sure, provided she makes in past the bloodbath. I didn't realise she'd picked a male name. I didn't realise she'd picked me. I didn't realise I was on stage. I didn't realise I was being sent to my death.

* * *

**A/N Hi guys, I wrote this on IPad so it's probably dodgy. Plus, to make up for lack of update yesterday, you get 2 chapters todfoolish lucky fools! TTFN!**


	9. District 7 reapings

District 7; Trya Baysons, age 14

I sit at the breakfast table, throwing my knife into the wall. It doesn't hit it's target like usual, but, then again, I am distracted. It's the Hunger Games, and, as I am every year, I'm scared I'll be reaped. My brother spots me and says "Hey, sis, don't worry. You won't get reaped. Your 14 years old, and someone from the Center 'll volunteer. Seriously, don't worry." After he finishes his speech, he pats me on the head. I start to feel mad; he's 19 and out of the reaping, so of COURSE he can say don't worry! In my distracted rage, I throw the knife, and it hits his hand. He yelps in pain, and my eyes tear up. I didn't mean to. And I'm worst in my year at first aid. I nibble my lip as he clutches his hand. "This might hurt." I rip the knife out and he curses loudly. Tears are dripping down my face, and I'm making no effort to wipe them away. He stands up, opens the drawer, and pulls out the first aid kit our uncle insists we keep. He prises the old case open and pulls out pristine white bandages. Wrapping them around his hand, he fixes them with a pin. "Don't worry sis." he says weakly, before exiting the room.

* * *

I scamper up a tree like a squirrel. My brother often commented I was like the rodent. My brother. He now had blood poisoning. All because of me. I sit and cry, in the enormous oak tree in the forest behind our house. My fingers skim across the axe my brother embedded in the tree when he was 15, and his best friend was reaped. The Hunger Games. So many families torn apart, so many people destroyed. All because of one brutal television show for the Capitol's entertainment. I try to pull out the silver axe, but it won't budge. I knew that before I even attempted to pull it out. My mother, my father, my brother, loads of people have attempted to get it out, and it hasn't ever even moved an inch. I dig my knife into the tree next to the axe. I compare the sizes, and realise they're true in reality. The knife, me, so small and slight, yet so powerful. The axe, strong and lean, and oh so powerful. Both can kill. Both are damaged, but not beyond repair. I smile. A sad smile.

* * *

The reaping. I stand. Not tall. The shortest. 14. Damaged beyond repair. Reaping bowl. Escort. Name. Me.

* * *

District 7; Theo Caldera, age 15

I chop down the tree. I've chopped down most of the wood. I always work quickly and efficiently; that's why I have gotten promoted to the bigger woodland, rather than the training forest. It's alot better in here, with larger trees and more of them. As I finish the last tree, I hesitate, then pull out my tomahawk and carve something into the tree. That something is "Theo Caldrea. The volunteer." For some weird, sadistic reason I liked the sound of it. My Grandfather, a victor, had trained me to think like a Career. That's why, this year, I'm volunteering. My Grandfather thinks I'm volunteering when I'm 18, and, well, he has another thing coming.

* * *

I meet my girlfriend, Pinespru, outside her house. She smiles at me, then kisses me, a long, slow, passionate kiss. Pulling away, murmurs "You have the most beautiful blue eyes, they're like the sky on a hot summers day." She runs her soft hands through my cropped hair, and I pull her in for a kiss. "We don't want to be late, and decrease our chances Piney."

I look at the girl on stage, evaluating her. She's shaking like crazy, obviously not wanting to be there. Her brother, his whole hand green from some illness, is being restrained by Peacekeepers. Her eyes dart around, before she collapses. The escort, Miffy, doesn't care, and continues with her reaping. She reaps a tiny 12 year old, who looks like he could be crushed by a bug. I volunteer. The whole square goes silent. They haven't had a volunteer since my grandfather. All district 7's volunteers will win. Always

* * *

**A/N I need a 12 year old for my D6 male! Please! Also, can you vote in my poll. The second highest vote will get training sessions from their perspective**


	10. District 6 reapings

District 6; Gauze, aged 14

I have no last name. I wasn't given one by the orphanage. They say that we don't deserve it. We're just workers, made for the amazing Capitol, to make their transport. We should be grateful, we have food, water and shelter, provided by the oh-so-wonderful Capitol. But, I feel the exact opposite. All I feel for the 'brilliant' Capitol is hatred. My lips must have curved up in a smile of malice, because I'm getting some odd looks thrown my way. Everyone else here is so dimwitted they think our amazing Capitol is just that. They don't see that the pretty colours mask the bloodlust, the beautiful buildings hide the poverty. If they spent a fraction of what they spend on building a house in the Capitol on the districts, we'd be fed for months. Not months, years. And they wondered why we've had 2 rebellions.

* * *

As I am pushed into bed that night, the small room goes dark, and I get scared. I've been frightened of the dark since I was, well, since I ever remember. I hate the shapes it casts; they remind me of mutts from the Games. I'd never survive them. To make myself feel safer, I pull out the dagger from beneath my pillow, and plunge it into the wall. I will never be killed by some mutt. Or the dark.

* * *

I stand, my hand brushing the dagger in the small pocket my dress has. I always like to keep a dagger about my person, because, well, you never know when your going to be attacked. The escort comes up to the stage. He's so normal compared to the others. He has natural cropped brown hair, thick rimmed glasses, and piercing blue eyes. The only Capitol enhancements are some tattoos on his face and a nose piercing. Still, he looks cool. Also, he hates the Games. You can see it in the depths of his eyes, the hatred, the remorse. He obviously just does it for the money. Sending 2 kids to their deaths every year can't be fun. He hurriedly picks a name, not wanting to prolong the agony, and says "Gauze... where's the last name?" I walk up, and say to him "I don't have one." I'm going to die.

* * *

District 6; Fegan Ethinan, age 12

I nibble anxiously at my breakfast. Ever since my brother died in the Games, my parents have treated me so well. They're making up for the fact they lost their first-born to the Games. I can tell that they don't really love me. They just pretend I'm Tray, to make them feel better. I want to go into the Games, whether I win or lose. And I can't believe I just thought that. I don't want to go in the Games. I want to live a long life that's not plagued by nightmares. That's not about the children I murdered with my own hands. I look at my parents worried faces and decide my fate. I am going to go into the Games.

* * *

It's probably weird, that at my first reaping I am going to volunteer. I dress in my best, then I go and call for my friends Boo, Cray, and Skay. They know I'm volunteering, and that I won't be coming back. I know how to survive, how to make traps, how to use a slingshot, and I know how to use a knife, to cut people up, but not to throw. But I can't do heavy lifting, or use swords, or basically, any fighting. I can't even climb trees. I'd probably be a bloodbath. But they understand me. I opened up, said my parents think I'm Tray, and they know I need to stand out. I can't just be their first-born. I'm Fegan, and I'm the second born, and I am my own, unique person.

* * *

The girls been picked. She's cocky; I'll give her that. The escort, Shine I believe his name was, looked uncomfortable. I smirk, glad to know that even Capitolites have feelings, even if they are vague ones. He reads the males name, a 14 year old who bursts into tears. I volunteer, then sprint up to the stage, showcasing my agility. The whole district gasps, seeing me volunteer. I'm 12 years old, and have no chance. Well, get ready. Fegan Ethinan is going to be a contender in these Games, whether the Capitol knows it or not.

* * *

**A/N Hi guys. I just want you to know, as a slight twist, if you put bloodbath on your form, it doesn't mean they will be a bloodbath, and if you don't want them to be, well, they could be. You never know... mwahahahahah. By the way, NO MORE TRIBUTES NEEDED.. Unless they're the small tributes.**


	11. Authors note important to the plot line!

Hi guys! I decided to change the way you sponsor

Instead orearming points, like most SYOTs, you answer questions. The easier the question, the simpler thing you can send your tribute.

Eg. Easiest Name of the 2nd book in the trilogy - answer correctly and win a pack of 6 crackers

Hardest - my Fav hunger games pairing - must get all the other questions correct too and win Capitol medicine.

Also, you don't have to send the gifts you win to the tributes straight away, and not necessarily to your tribute. You must keep track of what you win, and you must PM me the answers or they will not be accepted.

Furthermore, what I said in the last chapter goes. Just because they're not a bloodbath on the tribute sheet, doesn't mean they're not a bloodbath in my story. It works vice versa, you say they're a bloodbath doesn't make them one.

Happy hunger games!


	12. District 5 reapings

District 5; Honoria Davis aged 18

I pull a couple of ninja spikes out of my belt, and throw them at an apple I balanced on a wall. One hits it dead center, and sticks into a nearby tree. A bolt of electricity shoots out, and my eyes widen. I forgot that they had put electricity wires through trees. They had found some way to channel into trees energy waves, and photosynthesis sugars, and create electricity. As bolts of electric fly out of the tree, I run away. That's one less spike to protect me. And if I didn't keep them I'd be dead.

* * *

You see, in our district, during the rebellion, our district was kind of halved. Half sided with the rebels, and half sided with the Capitol. My family sided with the Capitol, and it earned us abuse. Seeing as the kids use the Training Center, they know how to use weaponry. That means I'm a constant target, to be killed for being a traitor. So I carry weapons too. It protects me. Normally, once they see I'm armed, they leave it off. But, once or twice, they haven't left it and I've had to gain a notch on my scale of kills. The Peacekeepers see, but don't care. To them, filing a murder report is unnecessary paperwork.

* * *

I bring home the bread I 'found' in the streets to find my parents are still working. I shrug my shoulders, then I throw my hair so it tumbles down my back in glossy black waves. After that I nibble on the bread. My parents have never had enough money to keep me, so I steal food so they don't have to keep me. After this last reaping, which I know I won't get picked for, I'll move out. I dress for the reaping, then head out to watch who gets picked for certain death.

* * *

By the trainers, I am called arrogant. I like to call it, sure. That's why I'm SURE I won't be picked. Not I'm arrogant I won't be picked. And they call me stupid. Anywho, the reaping. Where one lucky man and woman get to go be killed. Happy days. And I'm picked. Who loves the amazing Capitol now, eh mother!

* * *

District 5; Andrew Encisco aged 14

Me, Jo, Tee, and Electric are at the Training Center before the reaping. If we get picked we don't want to be easy pickings; bloodbaths. We want to be victors, remembered, not deceased and forgotten. Anyway, I pick up my sword, and slash some dummies to bits. I then ask an Avox to go against me in hand to hand combat. They send the best there is, but I still win. I'm amazing at things that require strength. Not so good with long range weaponry, or running. Or stealth. Still, I try the Gauntlet, and I can't reach the end. I can't figure out how to run and dodge. It confuses me.

Its in that moment, for some strange reason, that I realise, if I ever went into the Games, I probably couldn't kill. I don't want to hurt anyone. It'd be changing me into something I'm not. Same with alliances. I can't go into a group with people I barely know. That's why I have a couple of choice friends instead of a big group. At least I actually know them.

* * *

My mother bakes, and I see she's made fresh cookies, as it's reaping day. I reach for one, and she slaps my hand.

"No, AFTER the reaping you can eat. Not BEFORE, AFTER, got that? Entered your tiny little brain?"

My mother tries to reach and pat my head, but, seeing as she's tiny, she just reaches my shoulder. I chuckle, then lift her up so she can pat my head.

"I love you mom. Don't forget that." I say. She looks close to tears, and replies "I love you too, and I never will." Then she does the district 5 sign of love, a air drawing of a zigzag to represent electricity. It sucks, but I get the message, and relay it back to her. Her hand clasped over her heart, she waves me off to the reaping.

* * *

I stand with Jo, Tee and Electric. The female tribute is already up there, and she seems to be smiling in malice for some reason. I feel pretty creeped out. The male is picked.

"Electric Catren." the escort reads out with determination. Electric slowly walks forward. I follow him and yell "I volunteer!" I'm loyal to my friends, and one thing I would never do is let them go into the Games.

* * *

**Hi guys! Please vote on my poll!**


	13. District 4 reaping

District 4; Gilly Porter, aged 17

I yawn. I get up and stretch, then I gently pad into my father's room. I clamber into bed with him and give him a giant cuddle. He stirs, and mumbles "What's the point in waking up? Your mothers gone, and you'll still be here tomorrow." He rolls over and falls back into a fitful sleep, full of nightmares about my mother and the dreadful execution of her tongue. The bloody muscle was sent to us in the mail, dropping into the mail box beside our beach shack. When my father opened it, he screamed, and threw it away instantly, but the damage was done. The image was permanently embedded into his head, and it added fuel to the terrible nightmares he already had. He never had allowed me to see the tongue, but I had a good enough idea of what it looked like. A lifeless lump, coated in blood.

* * *

My father has still not awoken by the time I slip out to the beach. I head out to the Training Center, but instead of entering through the massive glass double doors in the front, I slip around to the back, where I head straight for a small shack in the middle of the vast green lands. It's strange, how our district is mostly beaches, yet there is amazing fields here. Anyway, after getting off track there in my own thoughts, I pick the lock, then I enter. Here is the old weaponry that was removed after the rest was replaced. I pick up a couple of metal spears, and my favourite, with a glass body and a platinum spearhead. I wonder why they threw it away; it's amazing, with no visible scratches. I head down to the beach, retrieve my hand woven net from under a rock, and start to fish.

* * *

After a couple of hours fishing, I've caught some prawns, salmon, and a massive bass. I'll probably have to 'donate' some to the district to give to our 'amazing' Capitol, to show we are thankful. Thankful for what? Thrusting 24 children at them, knowing only one will come back alive? Making us watch it live on our televisions? Making us live in poverty? And this is why I have no friends. I make friends, say one bad word about our beautiful Capitol, and I'm lonely again.

Anywho, it's time to ready myself for the reaping. The great event where 'one courageous man and woman' are entered into the Games. Courageous? They didn't volunteer, they were forced there by the Capitol. Fuming, I scrub my hair, wincing when my nails dig into my scalp. I chose a gentler approach, washing my body with care. If I'm going to the Games, I don't want to be injured. I pick out the dress I made the other day, made out of seaweed. I should have been from 8, with the way I can carefully made dresses with limited resources. Maybe I'll be the next Cinna! I do an unladylike snort, before dressing, and heading out.

* * *

I stand tall, in a sea of other 17 year olds. They hug, wish each other luck. I want that. The friendship, the trust, even the hardships. A girl comes up behind me, grabs my hand, and squeezes it in friendship. I start, staring into her face. She has long, platinum hair, bright blue eyes, and a smiling face. I recognise her as Lila Sharpe, a merchant who sells handwoven nets. "Good luck" she whispers, and the reaping starts. A name is pulled, and a tiny 12 year old walks up, quaking with fear. The young girl is pretty, with black hair in a pixie cut, and pale skin unusual in 4. I volunteer, and see the escort looking me up. I'm not pretty like the other girl. I'm tall and spindly, while the girl was short and cute. I have dry brown hair and dull green eyes, not to mention my 'wrinkles' on my brow.

I'm not beautiful, gorgeous, talented, or even remotely smart. Yet, I believe I have what it takes. To get out of poverty, and win the Games! I raise my hand high in the air, and pump my fist. My eyes seek Lila's and she gives me a thumbs up. I've finally made a friend.

* * *

District 4; Jared Kiter, aged 15

I wake up to the sound of my family bustling around in the kitchen in the room next to mine. I smile, and get out of bed. Dressing in board shorts and a t-shirt, I come out and hug Alicia, Koi, Sharlotte, and Avici. I'm the oldest, aged 15. Alicia is 9, Koi, who is definitely a boy, no matter what you might say, is 7. Sharlotte is 6, and Avici is the baby at aged 3. Don't call him that, he gets violent. "Chow down!" my dad yells over the ramble, and we scramble to eat. I eat quick, before grabbing my belt of daggers and running out of the house. I need practise before the Games, even if I'm not going to be in them.

* * *

At the Training Center, I get my favourite bow, and practise my archery, which isn't half bad. I then pull some daggers out of my belt, slashing the dummy to pieces. I engrave my name into the dummy, and survey my work. Smirking, I rip the dummy's head off, and throw the body and the detached head into the middle of the center. I exit.

* * *

I seek out my girlfriend Lila Sharpe next. She's amazing, a total beauty, with smarts too, and, yet, somehow, she sees the best in the worst people. Well, she is dating me! I sneak up behind her, plant my hands over her eyes, and slip around to the front of her. I reach down to kiss her. She lets me, even leaning in herself. I nibble on her lip, making her mouth open, so I can slip my tongue in. I explore every crevice of the familiar mouth, while she does the same to me. It's only until a guy shouts "Get a shack!" that we move down to the beach, and continue our passionate tongue tennis.

* * *

We lay on the beach, content to live in this moment forever. She's in her best clothes, which are rumpled and covered in sand, and I'm in my board shorts, when the sound comes on over the speakers to get to the reaping. No time to get changed. I hastily pick up Lila like a rag doll, and carry her to the reaping while she pounds on my back ineffectively. I only put her down when we have to have our blood taken. I see the Peacekeeper looking at me, clearly taking in my not best clothes. "Got a problem, or just like what you see?" I smirk, and the Peacekeepers roaming eyes dart downwards.

* * *

My girl's talking to Pippa, this chick from Class 9. She's not pretty, and Lila looks stunning compared to her. Lila looks stunning compared to anyone but that doesn't matter. Anyway, this girl isn't anything to be pepped up about. Girlie volunteers, then, to my surprise, pumps her fist in the air. Lila gives her the thumbs up. Then I'm reaped, and Lila's face turns from a gleeful smile into a wide eyed look of astonishment.

* * *

**A/N wow guys, I am so sorry. I have been so busy lately, I haven't had time to update. I did a long chapter to hopefully make up for it.**


	14. AN

**Hi guys, sorry if you were expecting a chapter.**

**I have bad writers block for the reapings. Notepad, shall I go straight to the Chariots? Or do you want me to do the rest of the reapings?**

**Review your choice!**

**Also, sorry about not updating. Grandad died, and haven't really wanted to update.**

**Review soon**

**Emm xxx**


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